


are you dead or are you sleepin'? (god, i sure hope you are dead)

by ElasticElla



Series: tipsy tales [9]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Community: lands_of_magic, F/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: The island has all the hallmarks of a decadent honeymoon- the one resort reserved all for themselves, a compelled staff, platters of fresh fruit on every table and a fresh mojito whenever Bonnie extends her hand. (That she doesn’t even blink at Klaus feeding on the waitstaff, fuck she’s too desensitized to vampires.)
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: tipsy tales [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/950364
Kudos: 40





	are you dead or are you sleepin'? (god, i sure hope you are dead)

**Author's Note:**

> title from modest mouse's satin in a coffin, this didn't end up as angsty as i thought it would? opps  
> (the [tumblr](https://elasticella.tumblr.com/) is back uwu)

Bonnie should be studying for finals. Okay, admittedly, that’s a bit of a stretch. Bonnie should be dealing with the problem of the week, possibly weighing her own morality again, listening to Elena’s and Caroline’s drama, and idly reading her Grams’ grimoire for the millionth time. Maybe hooking up with a cute newcomer because it’s been a while, but then they’d probably wind up being the latest villain and-

Whatever. The point is, she’s not supposed to be in the middle of the Pacific with Klaus fucking Mikaelson. The island has all the hallmarks of a decadent honeymoon- the one resort reserved all for themselves, a compelled staff, platters of fresh fruit on every table and a fresh mojito whenever Bonnie extends her hand. (That she doesn’t even blink at Klaus feeding on the waitstaff, fuck she’s too desensitized to vampires.)

She kind of hates how much she’s enjoying herself. 

She isn’t even isolating herself on the opposite end of the island. (Because Klaus would probably find it amusing, not because she’s succumbed to the luxurious vacation high life.) Everyone else thinks they’re hiding in a safe house in Canada, dealing with a chilly fall and muddy slush and over-polite neighbors. 

Mikael’s back again like the worst penny in the world, this time with some witchcraft from the dearly departed Ester that if he kills Klaus (and the many descendants along with him), Mikael will become immortal once more. In a weirdly rational twist, Klaus agreed to go into hiding- then again, given the centuries on the run bit, maybe she shouldn’t find it so odd. He demanded the strongest witch to accompany him, and Bonnie refused to be flattered by his airs. (He’s just buttering her up, probably for some ridiculous spell that makes him like extra immortal or whatever.)

Klaus took going into hiding seriously, had Bonnie design her own measures of making them untraceable before knowing his. What should have been a half-day’s worth of travel turned into a little over a week. Setting down a false trail into Canada that petered out, a second fake start to the Arctic, another to Laos, and then finally going to the small island. Bonnie buried a talisman in Quebec, so any magical search for them would lead there, an old Martin spell hiding their active presence half a world away. 

They’ve hidden their tracks well, almost too well. The only way they could be found now- besides dumb luck- is if Bonnie were to use magic. Which brings her to her current predicament: there’s nothing to do on this stupid island besides lay in the sun and drink cocktails. She’s never felt so useless, her friends are probably-

“Must you think so loud little witch?” 

Bonnie rolls her eyes behind the oversized sunglasses, “Yes.”

“Entertain me love.” 

She slowly removes the sunglasses, lips thin. “I’ll give you to the count of three before I set you on fire.”

“Ah ah, no magic on paradise island,” he retorts with a crooked grin. 

“I’m sure one of the waiters can bring me a lighter. And a bottle of vodka.” 

“You wound me sweetling-” 

“Not yet,” Bonnie grumbles. 

“-tell me, what do you young people do for fun these days?”

“Besides hanging out with their friends?” Bonnie can’t help but snark. 

Klaus’s smile doesn’t falter, “Indulge me.” 

Bonnie blames the third cocktail for entertaining the notion at all, coming to a rather depressing answer quickly. “Beats me.” 

“That won’t do at all,” Klaus declares, standing up and extending a hand. “Let’s fix that, shall we?” 

And Bonnie blames the third cocktail again when she takes his hand and lets him pull her up. (Blames it a third time when her palms tingle, when her heart skips a beat when she’s suddenly standing right beside him, can practically taste the coconut on his breath.)

.

God forbid, a day later, and she’s actually actively enjoying herself. There’s been snorkeling with flashy fish, a very lopsided game of volleyball, and an over the top spa treatment that’s ruined her forever. And when she stops thinking about who she’s with, she’s actually enjoying Klaus’s company. 

He knows how to play the gentleman and entertainer, can charm so easily she finds herself repeating the names of those he’s killed. (She never had such a problem with other killers, other vampires in her life. He’s an original aberration.)

“There’s one obvious pastime we haven’t tried love,” Klaus says after they spend the morning painting. Bonnie tries not to compare their works, but fucking hell it isn’t fair. His sunrise over the ocean could fit into the Louvre and her dolphin could be confused with a first grader’s art project. 

“We’re not compelling the staff to play human chess, that’s so creepy.” 

Klaus barks out a laugh, coming closer. “Tempting, but not what I was considering.” 

His fingers trace down her face, and her breath catches in her throat. She hates the involuntary reaction, hates that he can sense it, can already feel the blush burning in her cheeks. She should say something or he’ll-

Klaus kisses her. 

She should shove him away. Or slap him. Or something. Anything but clutch at his shoulders like they’re in a cheap soap opera, mouth falling open to deepen the kiss. His hands are covetous on her neck, on her back, pulling her closer. They slip down to her ass, and her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. Her stomach jumps as he lifts her completely, starts walking them back to the resort. 

(And yeah, okay, best vacation ever.)


End file.
